Out of Action, Out of Order
by kdntjb
Summary: Leave it to Chloe to catch chicken pox as adult. For a change, Aubrey takes care of her. Domestic sick-fic fluff.


"You're sick," Aubrey said. She was very matter of fact about it, and maybe a little condescending judging from the way she kept nonchalantly reading her newspaper at the kitchen table. With her impeccable posture, crisp blazer and a cup of coffee in one hand she looked like a dad in a 1950s sitcom.

Somehow, Chloe was less than enthused. She'd had a long, long night sorting out a last-minute detail at the office. Despite the queasiness and migraine she'd felt coming on the night before, she pressed forward, skipping dinner and hunkering down at work. It was rare she'd have to stay so late, but the contract was a big deal for the firm (and Chloe's first time spearheading a project too) so their group of junior architects had pledged to comb over the proposal intently in preparation for the big pitch.

When she'd called Aubrey about it, her girlfriend had just laughed at the change in their usual roles and told her it was fine, but now she should be a little more sympathetic whenever _she_ brought up work-related obligations.

She just felt sore and achy like all her limbs were on fire. Her stomach hurt and her throat felt hoarse and Aubrey's smug 'I told you so' face was helping absolutely none of it. It didn't even look like there was food on the table. What had Aubrey been doing, anyway? What a poor show of girlfriend-ly affection.

"You're sick," Aubrey repeated. "Admit it."

"It's not a _competition_, Aubrey," she hissed. It was too bright. The least Aubrey could have done was draw the curtains. "I'm glad my _illness_ is _amusing_ you."

"Someone's grumpy," Aubrey replied. "I'll just get this out of the way now and tell you I told you not to go."

"That was two weeks ago." Chloe glared. Between the bed head and sick, pallid complexion, it didn't seem to work, especially given the way Aubrey looked like she was trying not laugh.

"There's this thing called an 'incubation period' that maybe the great engineer in the house hasn't heard of."

"It was my nephew's graduation!" Chloe protested.

"His fifth-grade graduation," Aubrey corrected. "I'll still never understand why that school bothers."

"It builds self-esteem."

"By celebrating mediocrity." Aubrey abruptly shut the newspaper and folded it neatly onto the table. She always had to get the last word. "Schools are just a breeding ground of disease. All those kids with poor hygiene, sniffing and sneezing and coughing. I don't know how you don't get nervous being back there."

She stood up and then tucked her chair neatly into the table. Then she strode towards Chloe and rested her hand on Chloe's forehead. It was a nice, cooling sensation.

Aubrey frowned, all of it ended up only one side of her face. It was the sort of thing Chloe would have appreciated if her head didn't feel like it was made of cotton wool and that cotton wool hadn't been doused in kerosene and set alight. "You're running a really bad fever."

"I just want to stay at home and sleep," Chloe said. "And I'm really hungry."

"I'll feed you in a second," Aubrey said in a clipped tone. She was staring at something near the collar of Chloe's oversized button-down shirt, the only piece of clothing she wore to bed when the weather was warm and edging towards summer.

"What are you doing?" Chloe said. She really just wanted to sit down and eat something. Bacon sounded pretty good. Anything with lots of fat and starch, really, despite the horrible scratchy feeling in her throat. Maybe something sweet. Anything filling, to be honest. She wasn't picky when she was this hungry.

"Aha!" Aubrey declared.

With a flick of her hand, she popped the first three buttons of Chloe's shirt open. It may or may not have been a trick she'd learn their old Barden days when they still wore the flight attendant inspired uniforms. Chloe would have mustered the energy to be annoyed Aubrey never used that skill _before_ if she wasn't already willing to kill for some breakfast.

"Aha _what_?"

"Chicken pox," Aubrey confirmed. She waved her hand around to indicate the area around Chloe's clavicle. Awkwardly craning her neck down to see, Chloe noted small red dots on her skin, some of them already ugly little bumps poking out with almost-pus. She cringed.

"I can't be sick," she moaned. "I was meant to _do_ things. Work things! I had a vaccination!"

"Those don't last forever," Aubrey said flatly. Then she stroked her chin thoughtfully. "It might depend on the kind you get. I really don't know. I'm not a trained medical professional."

She pushed Chloe towards a chair and then walked out of the kitchen, presumably to fetch something.

"Speaking of which," Aubrey continued. "We should get you to the doctor."

"I hate the doctor."

"Chicken pox and a hatred of the doctor's office," Aubrey said. "Perhaps you also caught the personality of a fifth-grader from the microbe infested wasteland that is an elementary school."

"Aren't you supposed to stay at home when you have chicken pox?" Chloe grumbled. She wanted to go absolutely nowhere. She refused, in fact, to go anywhere.

"To reiterate, I'm not a medical professional," Aubrey said. "I'm an actuary by training and an accountant by trade. In the spirit of statistical assurance and insurance, I'd like my assessment confirmed by someone who _did_ go to med school. Or even a nurse, if you want. I'd trust a nurse. Nursing school is hard too."

"I'm too tired to leave," Chloe whined. "And I'm hungry!"

"Alright, alright," Aubrey said. "Let's feed you something. Then maybe you can be convinced to do something responsible."

* * *

Aubrey managed to bribe her to go to the doctor's after all where her assessment of chicken pox was indeed confirmed. He recommended rest and self-quarantine and then handed Chloe a large bottle of calamine lotion to help with the itching that would likely spring up in the next 24 hours or so. Chloe was not looking forward to it.

"I have work!" she protested. "The big pitch! It's in two days!"

"I doubt the investors will be particularly endeared to you if you give them your disease," Aubrey said. "Someone will have to cover you. Didn't you all memorize the thing last night?"

"Yes," Chloe said. "But—"

"And didn't you say you were happy to be working with the most talent bunch of people you'd ever met?"

"Well, yes, but—"

"And your firm's reputation is still high and all the people you work with are committed 100% to making this idea of yours come true because they believe in it too."

"_Yes_, but—"

"And to top it all off, they're not just your colleagues but your _friends_ and after all those baby showers and birthdays and costume-themed murder mystery dinner parties, they've grown to like you and have your back the way everyone who meets you can't help but like you."

"Okay, I got it," Chloe said. "I'll call them and let them take it. Maybe George can do my parts. Phone?"

"Don't forget to call in sick for the rest of the week too," Aubrey said. She pressed a dry kiss to Chloe's forehead in a spot that hadn't been overtaken yet by red splotches. "I'll make up the bed for you. It'll be very cosy. Don't even think about getting to that pitch."

"You're such a nag."

"Call in sick!" Aubrey commanded from the hall. "I'll be able to tell if you haven't."

* * *

So being in the bed was nice. Chloe still felt terrible, both physically in the dull ache that pulse through her limbs and emotionally for leaving everyone to pitch her design proposal without her, the _lead architect_.

Aubrey just kept plying her with food. She swaddled Chloe in blanket and her hands in several layers of gloves and socks after she caught Chloe scratching at her sores. There was no escape from Aubrey's judging eyes and no respite for the terrible, horrible, persistent itching.

"I've had the chicken pox before," Aubrey said. "I'm a little surprised you haven't. Considering all the friends you talked about in elementary school, I thought you were bound to catch some sort of infectious disease."

"You're not making me feel better," Chloe whined.

"Fine, fine," Aubrey said. She rubbed more lotion into the hot, itchy sores on Chloe back and she sighed into the comforting feeling. She pulled Chloe's shirt back down and then tucked her into the bed. Everything felt great until the itching sensation starting niggling its way back into her mind. Chloe decided it would be best to distract herself with something else.

Aubrey had set up a temporary stay-at-home office to do her work in. To be fair, a lot of it could have been done from home anyway, but she went stir crazy without a commute to the office. They both got restless when they were cooped up and it touched Chloe, in a weird way, to know that Aubrey was intent on sharing in her misery, somehow. It was Aubrey's weird attempt at empathy, she guessed.

"I took work off for the next few days," Aubrey said. "You don't have to be home alone. I know you hate that."

Chloe whimpered in affirmation.

"Besides," Aubrey continued, "there's no need for me to be passing your germs onto the guys at work. One of them has a pregnant wife at home to think about and not all of them have as hardy an immune system as yours truly."

Chloe's pout just deepened. "Enjoying this a little too much, aren't you?"

"Teasing is fun," Aubrey said. "Especially now you're stuck in one place. I can finally keep up with you."

"You're really okay with taking time off work?" Chloe mumbled through the covers.

"I've got more than enough leave in sick days to burn," "Don't you worry about a thing."

"Don't think this means you're getting out visiting my parents for Thanksgiving," Chloe said.

"I love your parents," Aubrey said, fluffing up a cool pillow. "Why would I try to get out of that?"

"You're being too nice," Chloe grumbled, but complied when Aubrey motioned for her to raise her head and swap out the pillows. "You're never this nice when I'm not sick."

"Being sick makes you paranoid, huh?" Aubrey said, stroking her hair.

"Don't make fun of me! I'm sick!"

"So I have to be nice to you, but not _too_ nice, otherwise you'll get concerned," Aubrey said.

"Don't say it _that_ way."

"The complaints never end. Gosh, you're such a kid when you're sick. I guess some things never change."

"I have the _chicken pox_."

"That you do, late bloomer." Aubrey tucked her hair back behind her ear. "Do you want me to get you anything?"

"I'm not hungry." Chloe dragged the sheets up to her nose to hide.

"Loss of appetite is a common symptom," Aubrey said. "That makes sense, though I suppose it's a little odd how hungry you were two days ago."

"I thought you said you weren't going to make fun of me."

"It's just a nice change, that's all," Aubrey said. "I get to take care of you this time. I'll even give you full control of the Netflix queue. We can watch those animated movies of yours as many times as you like until you feel better."

"So, how did you get it then, Miss Immune To All Disease?" she said.

"In my neighbourhood we had pox parties," Aubrey replied. "My dad thought I should just get it over and done. He didn't really believe in shots so whenever a kid on the block caught something, we'd all camp out in their room overnight and try to catch it ourselves. Get it done in one fell swoop and all. You're not encouraged to do that, though. Apparently, having parties for the explicit purpose of spreading infectious disease is not a good idea." She chuckled dryly. "There were the only sleepovers _I_ ever had."

"At least you got to have fun when you were off sick, right?"

"When I had something like measles, yeah. Otherwise no. It had to be highly contagious to prohibit me from going outside the house."

"Not if you had a fever or a cold?"

"Dad only ever wrote sick notes if my fever broke 100 and only if I asked. He said I should be able to cure myself through vigour. Flu season was usually around winter so I used to run laps around the yard in the cold with my pyjamas trying to get it bad enough to stay in bed."

"Oh," Chloe said. "At least you could enjoy the chicken pox, right? All the bad stuff?"

"I caught those in the summer. My dad timed it like that. He said I wasn't the kind of kid who could afford to miss a day of school."

"But everyone else must have built up immunities and visited you, right?"

"No," Aubrey said. "We moved a lot. It's how I managed to just catch about every infectious childhood disease out there. I think I caught malaria once too. Come to think of it, I was sick a _lot_ as a kid. Looks like I'm just completion-ist like that."

She looked up to find Chloe frowning, lip quivering and eyes watering.

"Do you need a tissue? Are you okay? Do you need me to give you another massage? I can—"

"That's so sad," Chloe exclaimed.

"Sorry?"

"It's so sad," she blubbered. "Your childhood."

"Aww, Chloe. Please don't— Don't— It's _funny_. I told you it because it's a _funny story_. It had a punch line about infectious diseases. That's funny. It's such a _bad_ attempt at being a joke I thought I'd get a pity laugh. Chloe, please don't— Ah, Chloe— No, I didn't mean it like—"

But it was too late. Chloe had been set off. The tears were flowing.

"I'm sorry," Aubrey kept saying. "Let's agree to never talk about my childhood ever again."

"That's even worse! You shouldn't have to bottle it up like that!"

"Okay, whatever you want," Aubrey pleaded. "Whatever you want, just please stop crying like—" She rubbed circles into Chloe's back. "Okay, I'm getting you some tissues and then we can watch some Disney, alright? Alright? Deep breathes now. Hey, come on. Okay, fine, I'll help scratch your itches. Just please stop crying… Come on, Chloe, I'll do anything."

"Anything?" Chloe sniffed, eyes watering.

Aubrey nodded and tipped Chloe's chip so they were looking each other in the eye.

"As you wish," she said.

"You quoted 'The Princess Bride'."

"I know," Aubrey said. "It was intentional. Because you love that film, so I thought it would cheer you up and I think it has because you've stopped with the crying. So are you okay? Do you need me to do something?"

"Well…"

Maybe being sick wasn't the worst thing in the world.


End file.
